“Not all men have to be super gross,” he says with a wink. “Some of us can even pee without getting it all over the toilet seat.”
I snort my derision humorously. “Um, no. I just cleaned up the evidence that proves that statement as false. Every man who has ever set foot in this restroom has targeted that seat with expert precision.”
“Tell me they at least wrote their names? Phone numbers? Something that takes some skill.”
“All I could see were scribbles,” I say.
“Neanderthals,” he replies with a teasing lilt.
I giggle.
“So, how have you been? Cap talks about you a little bit, but not too much. You know how the firehouse can be, and so does he. He doesn’t want to get the guys excitable.”
I smile, blushing a little too much to hold eye contact. Lord knows, my cheeks have to be bright and rosy in a way that’s unmistakable. “I’ve been okay. Just settling back into California culture.”
He feigns a dramatic wince. “Oh, yuck. Why would you want to do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I live here now.”
“So? I’ve lived here for my entire life, and I like to stay on the periphery.”
“Well, if you have advice on how to do that, just let me know. I thought I’d avoid some of it by coming to a steakhouse, but it’s health nuts everywhere.” Truthfully, I’m not trying to knock the health conscious. I admire their ability to be so rigid. It’s just that I like tacos and pizza far too much to join their team.
He laughs. “You just need to start hanging out with the right people.”
I quirk an amused brow. “And I guess you’re the right people?”
“One of them,” he answers. “There are about a dozen of us in the greater San Diego area. We meet once a month.”
I snort. “Shut up.”
Garrett smiles huge, and the emphasis it puts on his sparkly blue eyes is almost deadly. I also don’t miss that today he’s sporting that impressive—and pretty damn hot—beard that comes and goes with his work schedule.
“Well…” I say awkwardly, clearing my throat around an unwelcome knot of sexual attraction. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair and back to my table. I think there’s some sort of time limit to how long I’m allowed to be in here before the self-destruct switch is activated.”
“I would deactivate it. Neutralize it. Whatever I had to do.”
A giggle jumps from my lips. “What are you, the bomb squad?”
“If I needed to be to keep you alive? Yes.” He nods, blue eyes serious. “I’m prepared to go full-on Jason Bourne. Dodge bullets. Climb in the air ducts. Make that notorious red-wire or blue-wire choice.”
More amused giggles pop from my lips, and a thrill-filled shiver runs down my spine and lands somewhere between my legs.
Good Lord, this man, he’s dangerously charming.
Which is probably why you should get the heck out of bathroom-Dodge before you do something crazy like reach out and run your fingers through his beard…
“Okay. Well, I should probably get back to my table…” I repeat my earlier words, and my eyes flick toward the door. “But I’m glad I know who to call now if a disaster occurs.”
He grins. “Definitely.”
“It’s been nice to see you again, Garrett,” I say in closing and move toward the door.
His grin grows. “You too, Dr. Lauren.”
A laugh rolls off my tongue, and I roll my eyes. “Just Lauren. Please.”
“Okay, Lauren,” he corrects. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again soon.”
I hitch the door open with my hip, and entertainment makes itself knows in the form of a smile on my lips. “Yes, but if at all possible, not in a men’s restroom.”
“Hey, I have no objections to that,” he answers with a little gesture of his hand. “Bye, Lauren.” He says my name again, and for some reason, all of a sudden, my name sounds like the best name in the whole world when it slides off his tongue.
“Bye,” I respond, my stomach turning over on itself in the strangest way.
I never expected to run into him anywhere, let alone in the men’s restroom.
Now, no matter how tempting he is or how much I want to keep replaying our latest conversation in my head, I have to find a way to forget about him again. To go back to lunch with Rebecca and pretend none of this ever happened.
Because getting attached to a guy like him is probably a really bad idea.
Garrett
Jake looks up from the table as I pull out my chair and sink into it, willing myself not to look around the restaurant in search of Lauren.
I want to—of course, I want to—but I will never hear the end of Jake Brent and his shit.
I settle into my seat and take a drink of my ice water before picking up the menu and scanning it mindlessly. Jake and I have come here at least once a month for the last decade. I know what I want—I always know what I want—and Jake reads through my nervous distraction techniques with no trouble at all.
“What happened?” he asks. “And why do you look so guilty?”
I glance up from my menu with a flick of my eyes and back down again, clearing my throat before speaking.
“Nothing happened. And guilty? For what? Washing my hands?”
Jake’s laughter rattles obnoxiously through our water glasses and straight into the center of my chest. I don’t want to be this transparent, but goddamn, I’m not doing a good job of covering at all. It also doesn’t help that he’s been my best friend for years. He knows me too fucking well.
“I don’t know what you’re guilty for, but you look like you just left me at the table to have sex in a public restroom.” He raises one knowing brow. “And, frankly, if that is the case, I don’t know if I can condone that kind of disrespect to our friendship.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up, Jake.”
“Just explain one thing to me… Why did I see a blond woman come out of the men’s bathroom right before you?”
I flick my eyes up and over the menu again, this time meeting his and holding. “We didn’t have sex,” I say seriously. He studies me closely. I wait.
“But you wanted to.”
“Jake. Let it go,” I respond in warning. He really has no idea how much I don’t want to go there. How long I’ve been going there. How deep I am into this vortex of fuck no, stop thinking about her! She’s the Cap’s daughter, you lunatic!
Truth is, I’ve been sort of, kind of thinking far too much about Lauren Carroll since she first introduced herself to me as Dr. Lauren. And spending time with her on Thanksgiving only served as a huge catalyst to keep thinking about her. It’s preposterous, to be honest, and I thought I’d be over it by now because, yeah, it’s also not a good idea.
No matter how fucking gorgeous or sexy or intriguing I think she is or how much I’d like to spend more time with her, the reality is that her father is my boss. And my boss is a hard-ass who would literally shove his boot up my backside.
Not to mention, Has she been thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about her?
Obviously, I’m hoping that’s the case, but I haven’t a fucking clue.